


Denial

by anthemXIX



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Gen, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:35:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27143936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthemXIX/pseuds/anthemXIX
Summary: Time stands in the ruins of a familiar temple. Wild waits for him to speak.
Relationships: Time & Wild (Linked Universe)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 180





	Denial

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for any inaccuracies or things that don't make sense. i'm pretty new to LoZ, but it's been holding my imagination captive for a while now, and this happened. side note, this is the first time i've posted my writing online for like 12 years, so. here goes nothing. thank you for stopping by~

Time pushed aside the wooden door's decayed remnants. Unconsciously, his steps became more tentative, more deliberate as he entered the ruined sanctuary, the way they’d been when he’d come here as a wide-eyed child so very many years ago. 

The once regal building was stripped to its bones, and those were half-gone, too. The vaulted ceiling was torn asunder, its sweeping marble arches replaced by sagging support beams and tattered shingles. Formerly proud stone walls had crumbled, reduced to sad piles of rubble draped with moss. Grasses and weeds had wheedled their way between the shattered floor tiles. 

It was unsettling to see magnificence so eroded by the ages, so consumed by nature as to meld into the landscape and become overlookable. The building used to possess an aura of importance and holiness, demanding reverence and respect of all who entered, but now…there was no spirit to the place. That was perhaps the eeriest change of all. 

Standing in the midst of the ruins, Time was surprised to feel, of all things, grief. Yet "dead" seemed the most apropos descriptor. 

The Temple of Time was dead.

Soft footfalls sounded behind him, but Time wasn’t concerned. He knew Wild had followed him here. 

When the gang of Links had arrived in Wild’s Hyrule early this morning, the scarred hero showed Time the map stored in his Sheikah Slate. As Time surveyed what was reachable within the day, he was suddenly struck by a familiar name. Time tried to keep his expression neutral, but clearly he had failed; Wild immediately asked what he'd seen. Time just shook his head, handing the Slate back to Wild and wandering off. Since then, the younger hero had watched Time carefully. Expectantly.

And now the sky was a dusky periwinkle, the horizon shrouded in misty pinks and yellows as the sun began to set, and Wild was appearing in Time’s peripheral vision. They stood side-by-side in silence, watching golden light and dappled shadows chase each other across broken stones. 

Wild was the first to speak. “This is close to my—close to the Shrine of Resurrection.” Time looked in the direction that Wild pointed, up a hill to their right. “This place,” Wild said, gesturing, “was one of the first that I came to when I woke up. And eventually it was where I met the king of Hyrule—well, his ghost, anyway—and he told me about what had happened a century ago and what I had to do. Defeat the Calamity, free Zelda…become a hero...”

Wild trailed off, crossing one arm over his chest to grasp the other. Silence returned, but now Time recognized that this silence held, as the temple once had, the weight of sacredness. It was rare for any of the Links to disclose details of their individual adventures, yet Wild had given him an offering and now waited for Time to reciprocate. In spite of (or maybe because of?) the lingering essence of death and the weathered goddess statue looming like a grave marker, Time felt safe. Safe to make his grief tangible and allow someone else to turn it over in their hands. Safe to trust.

Besides, he sensed that despite being riddled with gaping wounds, these walls could guard secrets. It's why they were built.

“In my era, this temple held the gateway to the Sacred Realm,” Time said. His voice was quiet. Wild didn’t look at him but he knew the boy was attentive. “And this is also where the Master Sword resided.” Time could envision it clearly even now: a cold stone pedestal, a beam of light glinting off the blade that hummed to him. That beckoned. “When I drew the Master Sword, I unknowingly led Ganondorf straight to the gateway and gave him access to the Triforce, the very thing I had been entrusted to protect.”

Wild’s gaze whipped to him at that. Time continued to stare straight ahead, seeing the past. 

“After pulling the Sword, there was a blinding white light. I closed my eyes. Moments later, I heard a voice calling to me, asking me to wake up.”

Now Wild turned fully towards him.

“When I opened my eyes, I was in a different place. The Sacred Realm. A sage told me that I hadn’t been ready to wield the Sword, so I had been sealed away for seven years. Seven years... Seven years passed by me in moments.” Time held up his hands, looked down at them, remembering. “I was a child in an adult body, a body that wasn’t really mine. I didn’t know myself. I didn’t know the world outside. It had been ravaged. People had been suffering because I led Ganondorf to the Triforce.” 

He paused, chest tightening, the inhuman groans of long-gone redeads ringing through his head. “And no one knew me. People I had spoken to only days before didn’t recognize me. My friends didn’t recognize me. I had one companion, who had stayed with me those seven years—”

Time dropped his hands to his sides limply. Remembering.

“Who was your companion?” Wild whispered. He had crept closer to Time while listening, enraptured. 

His companion. The one constant he could cling to amidst chaos—chaos that he was thrust into, expected to quell, even as a child—chaos that he, in part, had caused—overwhelming chaos—

The promise of opportunity, of security, of trust he had sensed only minutes ago vanished (or perhaps were banished). Something blossomed inside him: something hollow like the holes in the roof; something weak and crumbling like the stone pillars; something unstable that would soon collapse. He knew it wasn’t a suitable refuge, but he embraced the numbness nonetheless. 

Once it became evident that Time would say no more, Wild turned back to the temple, a troubled look settling over his features as he took up Time's wordless vigil. 

They stood unmoving until the sun had nearly completed its descent and a blue pall was cast across the dead space. Time gently clasped a hand onto Wild’s shoulder. “It’s okay. That was all a long time ago,” Time murmured. It was a mask, and a flimsy one at that. Wild’s expression darkened further. There was confusion there. Hurt. Grief. Time ignored it all. “We should return to camp before the others worry.”

He gave Wild’s shoulder a squeeze before pivoting to exit. Wild followed a step behind, and Time was aware the younger hero was staring at him again. Still, the pair trudged down the cracked stone staircase without speaking. As they walked, Wild glanced towards the temple now and then. 

Choosing to neglect the specter of death that had followed him out of the ruins, Time did not look back once.


End file.
